


nothing but a plaything

by Rikku



Category: Gunnerkrigg Court
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:04:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikku/pseuds/Rikku





	nothing but a plaything

He buried the bird in the earth by the river. It made him uneasy, to be so close. The Waters felt wrong and always had.

Then he returned to his liege-lord, walking miles in a single stride. The forest was his backbone, now, a part of him. Truly a mighty gift.

“It is done,” he told Coyote, and Coyote grinned sly and sideways.

“Tell me all!” he said. “Tell me of your heroism in enacting this plan of mine.”

Ysengrin shifted, uneasy again without knowing why, but told him. Would always tell him, anything he asked, anything. 

Coyote interrupted, partway through, not even waiting for the story to be done. “You ate fairies? Those silly things wishing for the mechanical world! Haha, you fool!”

Ysengrin clenched his fist tight, sapling-creak of bending wood. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“They will be able to tell of your deed, my fine fellow!” Coyote said, winding himself around him and raising his head so they were nose-to-nose. “ _Renard_ would never have made such a mistake,” he added, then laughed his braying laugh. 

Fury was boiling in his blood (his sap was sap and his bones the trees and his heart Coyote, Coyote, Coyote always and forever) and he didn’t know why, not entirely. He’d been furious a lot more since receiving Coyote’s gift. Such a wondrous gift it was, and his trembling, that was his own fault for not receiving it better, for not being stronger, more worthy. “I’ll do better, next time.”

“No you won’t!” Coyote said, and laughed again, as though at some secret. Nuzzled at Ysengrin’s shoulder. “How are you so _incompetent_ ,” he crooned.

“I’m trying—”

“Trying your hardest to be utterly useless to me?” Coyote said, and moved away, eyeing him with all his eyes, paw under his chin, thoughtful: “Yes I believe this!”

Ysengrin snapped. 

He was brittle and broken and so, so old, he wasn’t some young willow who would bend and not break, he was bone, in the end there was nothing to either of them but bones. He roared and leapt for his lord, his love, his laughing laughing torturer and trapped him beneath one titanic paw but Coyote just laughed, laughed and laughed and Ysengrin came back to himself with a jolt of horror, shrank down small and helpless instantly, half-falling out of his strong new body of wood, Coyote had given it to him, he was so kind, so kind, what had he _done_ -

“I would never,” Ysengrin whimpered, shuddering and horrified because for a moment his mind had been nothing but madness and rage, how could he have done that, what was wrong with him? “I would _never _have hurt you, never, what am I becoming, what …” Memories swamping him, vague and hollow and disjointed but present, all the same, how could he have forgotten – “What have you _made me become_ —”__

__“Shh shh, dear stupid wolf,” Coyote sing-songed, resting his muzzle on Ysengrin’s flank. Ysengrin’s shivers subsided. And then Coyote said, kindly, “I can make you forget.”_ _

__Ysengrin stilled. “No,” he said, a whimper, undignified. “No, please—”_ _

__“Shhhh,” Coyote said again, absentminded, and he plucked a sliver of Ysengrin’s memory. (His spirit too, his life-force, he could feel himself diminish as Coyote took it, become something smaller and weaker and far less sane.) And all Ysengrin could do was lie there helpless (couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t ever hurt _him_ ) as Coyote danced it between his claws like a tiny moon, then gulped it down, greedy._ _

__Ysengrin went on whimpering, no no no no no, please no, not this, not again … He fell silent, after a while. His eyes glazed._ _

__Ysengrin woke up with a start. Coyote’s face was inches from his, grinning expectantly, and he blinked, wondering what had taken place, what he’d forgotten – there had been strange gaps in his memory, lately, often. Coyote’s gift, perhaps. He was not strong enough to deal with the majesty of it._ _

__“You are far too kind to me,” he said._ _

__“Yes I am,” Coyote agreed, lordly, and Ysengrin let his head sink down in contentment._ _


End file.
